The Albion Chronicles: Sparrow
by Fesquishety
Summary: A literary interpretation of Fable II. Disclaimer: I do not own Fable II or any characters, places and ideas associated with it. The game and the entirety of its content belongs to Lionhead Studios. This story is not for profit, and it is simply a creative written account of my experience of the game.


Disclaimer:

I do not own _Fable II_ or any characters, places and ideas associated with it. The game and the entirety of its content belongs to Lionhead Studios. This story is not for profit, and it is simply a creative written account of my experience of the game.

The Albion Chronicles 2: Sparrow

~PART ONE: Birth of A Hero~

Sparrows are curious little creatures. They are small, often preyed upon by larger birds, and are usually seen as a nuisance or overlooked by big folk. The people of Bowerstone were among this number- no sparrows mattered to them. The coldest winter in years was setting in, and a few birds were nothing to them. It is interesting to note that the tree sparrows, which are smaller than the common house variety, have a chestnut brown head and white cheeks, and are shyer than other birds of its species. Although they are not associated with humans directly, these little things can be seen when you look for them.

At this point, some folks may be asking what sparrows have to do with the story at hand. In truth, there are many parallels between those small brown birds and the childhood of this tale's hero, Serin, to the extent that he was known as Sparrow for years. He had hair of a chestnut hue, pale, gaunt cheeks, and quiet, shy tendencies, and his appearance mimicked that of the little birds'. His story really begins when he was about ten years old, when he was living as a street rat in the slums of Bowerstone...

"Eugh. What was that?" Seeing the muck on her little brother's head, Rose grimaced sympathetically. "Oh, yuck! Well, I have heard that it's lucky. Like finding a four-leafed clover. Although, I think I prefer the clover."

Rose was quite a bit older than Sparrow, but far less sensible. She had soft brown eyes, pigtails of hair lighter than her brother's, and a smile lovelier than the flower after which she was named. Rose was a dreamer, prone to setting her heart on things completely beyond her reach. The horrors of the world were lost to eyes that would stare at nothing but the stars. Sparrow, meanwhile, was a precocious child- not that it showed, as he hardly ever spoke. It was not that he didn't know how, it was more that he had nothing much to say, and nobody who would listen. Besides, Rose talked enough for the both of them.

At her comment, Sparrow scowled. He didn't care if it was lucky, he would rather not have his head covered in bird poo. Besides, they had no luck. Orphaned, homeless, starving and frozen. Winter had blanketed the ramshackle buildings of Bowerstone in white snow. The city was only a few weeks into winter, so Sparrow knew that it would only get worse.

The two were standing just outside adopted home, a derelict shack on the verge of collapse, huddled around a small torch- the only defense next to their patchy clothes against the cold. They could see Castle Hill clearly from there- a sight that spurred Rose's imagination. The castle itself stood in glory and splendour upon its hill. It created a magnificent picture of grand towers, spires and arches against the gloomy winter sky.

"Castle Fairfax looks so nice in the snow..." Rose's stomach growled. "Oh little Sparrow, imagine the grand dining hall! I bet Lord Lucien will be having roast duck at this time of year." She bit her lip, losing herself in thought. "He must be really lonely now his wife and little girl have died. Up in that big castle, all by himself."

_He doesn't have to be by himself._ Sparrow thought. _There'd be enough room for a hundred people to live comfortably._

Rose sighed. "If only we could live there."

Sparrow glowered up at the castle. His sister might think the best of Lucien Fairfax, the Mayor of Bowerstone, but he hated the lord. In his small mind, Lucien's disinterest in the town since the passing of his family was the cause of his current predicament. Grief had developed into neglect. There would certainly have been enough space in the castle to house a few street urchins, but Lucien stayed locked in his castle, letting his city fall into impoverished disrepair.

The sound of a commotion from the square caught their attention. They were almost hidden from the bustle of Oldtown's centre, but a little alley let them pass into the square all too easily.

"What is going on over there? Come with me, little brother."

Rose was off without even waiting for his reply. Sparrow sighed deeply. Ironically, it was always he who had to follow Rose around to make sure she didn't get into trouble- even though she normally had a head start.

However, the boy managed to catch up down the alley; Rose had waylaid by a grimy young man named Arfur. A crook through and through, Arfur had a bad disposition and hardly any teeth. He had had his eye on Rose for a while now, and pestered her incessantly.

"Hallo, there, young Rose." Arfur said. "You look 'ungry. Have you reconsidered my offer?"

Rose gave the man a look so cold it could have frozen fire. "We'll never be _that_ hungry. The answer's no!"

Arfur sneered at her. "You'll be back, and I'll be waiting for ya."

Her face burning crimson, Rose opened her mouth to retort, but Sparrow tugged at her arm.

A look conveyed the boy's words. _Leave 'im. He's not worth the trouble._

His sister sniffed indignantly. "Filthy creep." She composed herself. Taking Sparrow's hand in hers, she led him down the alley. "Come on, little Sparrow. Let's see what's going on."

They reached the square with Sparrow checking over his shoulder for Arfur. The crook had disappeared, which made the boy apprehensive. The noise was coming from a crowd that had gathered around a trader's caravan. It was far more flamboyant than any Sparrow had seen before- it was overly large, a huge yellow sign was nailed across the canopy's edge, and strings of pennants hung all over. Standing in the open caravan was a squat man with bowed legs and a ridiculous moustache. The shelves behind him were piled with all manner of strange things. Sparrow could make out the shapes of bottles

"Can't see anythin' past this lot." Rose grumbled. Sparrow pulled her to the edge of the crowd.

"A-ladies and a-gentlemen! I have travelled the land accumulating wondrous and mysterious objects, which I now offer to you for the modest price of… Five gold. Consider this: This is truly a magical mirror; for as long as you look into it, it will make you beautiful."

"I'll take it!" someone in the crowd called out.

"Very wise." Murgo said, rubbing his hands together. "Now, just remember, the magic only works if you look at it in complete darkness. Ah, now this is _truly_ a marvel…"

Sparrow snorted. He was beginning to think the trader misunderstood what 'truly' meant. The new item Murgo was gesturing to was a music box.

"This small, unassuming box is actually a device created by the ancients, and was used by the Old Kingdom rulers themselves. Turn the handle three times and you shall be granted a single wish."

"Ha." muttered Rose. "There's no such _thing _as magic."

"We live in grim times indeed, if the young are too world-weary to believe in magic. Most children your age believe eagerly."

The voice, deep and musical, came from behind the children, making them jump. They turned to see the slightly hunched figure of an old woman wearing a long, red cloak. Her face would be shrouded to older people, but Sparrow and Rose could look up into it. Misty, unfocused grey eyes scrutinised the childrens' scrawny forms.

"Look, I can see your eyes are bad, but I'm telling you, that music box is rubbish." Rose said.

Sparrow drew closer to his sister. There was something strange about the woman. She had an air of the unknowable about her. Her eyes were not sightless, merely seeing things that the children could not. Times long past and things yet to come, all that ever was and could be. It made Sparrow shiver from more than the cold.

"That's what the seller thinks," The woman said, bowing her head. "He has no idea what he has stumbled upon. But you have an inkling, don't you?" Her gaze moved to the little boy half hiding behind his sister. "Some part of you wants to believe it's magic."

The woman turned and began shuffling away, her cloak wrapped tightly around her. Sparrow shivered. The wind was picking up.

"What you… you really think it could be?" Rose said.

The woman paused. "For five gold coins, you could have your answer."

"For five gold coins, we could eat for a week."

"Listen to me, Rose, at the end of that week, you and your little Sparrow would be no closer to your dream- no closer to the inside of that beautiful castle."

Sparrow frowned. That was _Rose's_ dream. His dreams, on the rare occasions he allowed his mind to wander, usually involved swords, pistols, adventures, and glory. Sometimes there was a hope for a small cottage in a glade of flowers, and a warm hearth set in a brick wall. No castles, anyhow.

"What if it is real?" Rose asked, almost to herself.

Sparrow merely shrugged. 

"I bet we could get five gold coins… and maybe this could be a way out of here, after all… What is there to lose, little Sparrow?

Thoughts of more practical things five gold coins could buy- a carrot or a blanket, perhaps- came to Sparrow, but Rose had evidently made up her mind. There was a glint of determination in her eye. She would get those coins now, no matter what.

"Come on, there must be someone around here who'll give us gold to do… something."

As she made her way across the square, Sparrow sighed and resigned himself to following ever faithful.


End file.
